


the devil will drag you under by

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Oh My God, im so, it aired 90 goddamn minutes ago im so thirsty for gay baby mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A city on a hill cannot be hidden, or, Mac got off with two dudes and I had a small panic attack I was so happy, and an hour and a half later there was this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the devil will drag you under by

The Word of God is burning a hole inside him. It's what he imagines the fire of hell will be like, licking at his heels as he screams for eternity, except this one is jammed somewhere near his ribs, and he's going to Heaven. He knows he is. He stokes the flame every time he slips up and does the wrong thing, something like this: It's a fucking wildfire, Mac thinks, and his breath is coming fast. David's hand is firm on his jaw, thumb stroking over the line of his throat. This is wrong. He doesn't want to do this.

“Come on,” says David's gay husband. He looks like he's about to laugh. Shit, Mac doesn't even know his name. David's hand drops to the collar of Mac's shirt, wet and clinging to his chest, and he stares dumbly. You are the salt of the earth, he thinks, but what if the salt has lost its taste? It is no longer good for anything. This absolutely fucking cannot be what his purpose is. This is the exact opposite of what God wants to happen, and he has to prove it somehow, show these two the true path the Lord wants them to take. Yeah. Yeah, that's it. Mac sucks in a few desperate breaths, reassures himself that this is going to be okay, and lets his feet carry him through the door, guided by David's tugging hand. 

There are three seconds where David's husband looks at them before he nods, and then David is kissing him, soft and with a nip of teeth, hand slipping around to the back of his head. There are three more seconds where Mac thinks, You are the light of the world, and then the little ball of fire in him is exploding out through him and he thinks he's gonna die. His legs go weak and his mouth slides open. David's husband has to grab him by the fucking shoulder just so he stays upright.

“Holy shit,” Mac gasps. “Oh my god.” Oh shit. It's not like taking the Lord's name in vain is the worst of his sins right now (kissing another man. Kissing another man's husband. Getting painfully hand in his jeans because of the grip they both have on him-) but it's probably not doing him any favors. He says it again. “Oh my god.” He looks between the men looking at him, their eyes a little wide. Maybe they weren't expecting him to do this. Maybe he should be fighting and yelling out Bible verses, Leviticus 18:22, show them what a real man is supposed to be like. He knows he's not supposed to lean back against the wall and tip his chin up, a wordless needy question, and he knows he's not supposed to shudder and jerk his hips forward when a leg works its way between his, but he does and he does and for one moment he thinks that he was so wrong before it's not even funny. It's just burning in his veins and throat and deep within his heart, this one bizarre and disgusting truth that God never saw fit to show him before. 

A hand is at work on his belt, he can't tell whose. His eyes are screwed tight enough that all he sees are stars floating through his brain. He tries to remember the next part of the scripture he was holding so desperately to, but he can't. It's about light. It's about glory, and good works, and God in Heaven, and God in Heaven Mac is going directly to hell when he dies and he'll die the minute that hand stops touching him and those lips break away from his.

“I gotta say,” says whoever isn't kissing him, pressing a fond smile to his husband's cheek and giving Mac a long slow pull that has him arching. “I didn't expect you to be this easy. I had you pegged the minute you walked through the church doors, but this...” And that's just not fair. He can't think what part of him would suggest that he's even thought of doing this before, of abandoning God and everything He stands for, and then there's laughter in his mouth and it's not his. Or maybe it is. He's almost delirious right now. 

He comes faster and harder than he's ever come in his life. In the back of his mind he thinks maybe the reason it never felt like this with girls was that he was never supposed to do this with girls. This is his fucking purpose, he realizes. The thought is cloudy. Most of his mind is a haze of soft wet noises and fingernails scratching along sensitive spots, but the part that's coming down from the high of this thinks that this is what was meant to happen. Consider him converted. 

When it all becomes too much he draws back from the kiss and blinks. The world is crooked in a way he never noticed before. His feet feel unsteady. It might be the rocking of the boat, God clapping and crying and oh shit is God crying because of him? Is this storm because of him? 

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. He's whispering it. They should throw him overboard. He's the worst missionary he's ever heard of. Jonah got swallowed by a whale, and Mac is getting swallowed by everything he's feeling here in the threshold of this room. 

“How you doing there?” David asks. There's something about his voice that Mac can't place but he knows it's not good. He ignores that, straightens, tucks himself back in his pants and tidies his hair.

“I. I think I'm gay,” he says. The world doesn't end. David and his husband laugh and kiss each other. Mac still feels the burning in his chest but it's different now. Now it demands more bad deeds and illicit encounters in places of worship, places of God. He's desecrated this boat and he feels it more than he's ever felt holy, or blessed, or whatever bullshit he's been feeding himself. “Yeah. So.”

It's easier to breathe.


End file.
